Each day, Calla and her fragile heart are that little bit closer to death... but before she goes she'll prove to the world the boy she loves is no murderer.
🖤🖤🖤
With a life steeped in wealth and privilege, Calla Pierce should be protected from t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Six months earlier...
Cold air dances before my lips. The bass pulsates through my body with every step I take through the jammed crowd. My throat is gritty from car fumes and the smell of alcohol is burning my nose. The crowd is packed tightly together as the music reverberates along the concrete - I feel it war with the sluggish beat of my dying heart. I'm breathing hard, my body already exhausted, but wild rage is a mighty fuel. Tears are already blazing in the corner of my eyes.
I scan the crowded space between the garages for him. I know he's here. TJ posted about the party earlier. It seemed like every teenager who lived in the Heights was here and many more besides. Owen hadn't posed, but I glimpsed him in the corner of the photos. His dark form moving through the bright and lively photos like a spectre.
He hadn't come to see me in the hospital. He'd answered none of my messages or calls. Weeks had passed. The news that my heart was failing, that the device woven beneath my skin was no longer enough, had stripped me of any remaining hope. Doctors and consultants debated what to do as my parents wept. I'd sat there numbly, having known that the day would come. Having felt it like the tick-tick of a clock growing louder than my feeble heart every day since I'd first got sick. I would be added to the heart transplant list. There was a talk of another device. One I'd have to wear, one with battery packs and wires - a permanent visible reminder to the world that my body could no longer keep itself alive. That it had given up the fight.
I can't see Owen, but I spot Raj and TJ kissing and swaying near one of the open garages. I storm over. When they see me approach, their faces pale. They part, though Raj keeps his arm curled around her waist.
"Calla..." Raj whispers.
"Where is he?"
TJ moves closer, her eyes narrowed in concern. She puts her hands on my shoulders, and scans my face and body.
"God, you look terrible. Your neck..." My hands dart to the bruises Leon left behind and I shiver. Whenever I close my eyes, I see his face. The expression in his eyes. I knew everything he wanted, everything he planned to take from me. I have woken many nights since, icy sweat clinging to my skin, vomit spilling from my lips as the memory slams into me. "You shouldn't be here."
"Where is he?" I repeat, glancing between them. They look at each other, worry lining their features, and I know he's still here. After a long pause, the crowd erupts as another song bursts into being. I'm not even sure where the music is coming from and I couldn't care less. We're bashed this way and that by the excited crowd. TJ bites her lip and nods to the open garage behind them. I don't hesitate, just rush in, hearing their reluctant footsteps behind me.
I don't know this garage. It's mainly empty. Just a few faded settees and clusters of wooden furniture. Water is drip-drip-dripping from somewhere. The thick air smells like wood oil and damp. A couple are laughing drunk on the ground near the opening. I ignore them and keep going till I reach the back. Owen is lying on the floor, his back against a tattered settee pressed against the wall. He's drunk. His eyes are glazed, a half-drunk bottle of something by his side. His creased T-shirt stained and faded. He glances up at me - he blinks slowly and for a moment I'm not sure he believes I'm real. And then his face drops, misery lingering in his unfocused eyes.
